|image via weheartit.com|
It’s time for me to come clean. I am in a total rut. Not a string-of-bad-days rut. Not a its-fucking-freezing rut. Not a snow-days-make-my-students-wild rut. A mid-twenties rut. I’ve been in it for a little while. I don’t want to wax poetic about my shitty feelings because everyone has shitty feelings and we all know what it feels like. I also don’t want to keep posting chirpy happiness and pretend like the rut isn’t there. That happens a lot with blogs, I feel; people constantly post shiny, edited pictures and their lives look pretty perfect and soon you start thinking “Christ alive, why are they so perfect and I can’t even get my toe nails painted and they have kids and a REAL laundry pile and I can’t even keep my cat’s weight under control!” Maybe comparing your life to selectively edited and professionally graphically designed stranger’s life is not the best idea. But I fall victim to it. Because I am in a mid-twenties rut.
This rut is the excuse I use to explain crabby fights with my patient husband (who combated his mid-twenties rut by buying a practical car and dating a teenager named ashlie), an unhealthy weight gain, procrastination that borders on negligence, and an obsessive fixation on changing my career. I think I actually like my career, but that sentence alone tells me something isn’t sitting exactly right.
I am fucking done with this rut.
The creepy thing is, I am SURROUNDED by young women in their mid-twenties who know exactly what I am talking about. Women in the blog world who have posted similar missives that left me nodding in agreement. Co-workers with whom I sit and drink coffee and we all hold back tears together while we try to figure out WHAT IS WRONG? Some of my oldest friends from high school and college who have great jobs, partners, prospects, and still feel like getting dressed some days is barely worth it. Are we all clinically depressed? Are we feeding off each other’s misery? Are we over thinking ourselves into these tizzies? What the hell? I’m serious, someone explain this shit to me.
Trust me, there have been several times that I have told myself sharply, “Okay, you have a great life, it’s time to get over this shit and be a grown up.” It never takes. I know I’m not lazy and I know I’m not dumb. I am actually pretty terrific. Why am I holding myself back?
It is not cute, or sweet, or inspiring to sit here and share this on my precious little “simple girl” blog. I would rather talk about a ton of cute blogs I discovered this weathery weekend. I would rather explain how the latest 2-D Disney movie had Ben and I in tears on Saturday night. I would rather bore you with tales of the stress that report card time brings in an elementary school. But I feel like this is important work, explaining this rut that is simmering sometimes above and sometimes below my surface.
I’ll be back with regularly scheduled content, but while I’m posting about home decorating and crossing things off my list, realize that I’ll also be tackling this equally ridiculous and sinister issue that is definitely holding me back from the simple girl I want to be. Let me know if you have any insight into this. I’ll try anything at this point.